Lucy
by Marie Hawkins
Summary: The past dictates the present...   rated M just to be safe
1. Reaquaintance

**I credit the genius of the work 'Sweeney Todd' to Mr. Steven Sondheim, and the magnificent film portrayal to Mr. Tim Burton and all other members involved. The following is my take on the past.**

He was a good looking man. Was. He was in his late thirties, pale faced with brooding dark eyes. There was something profound about them, as though he'd experienced a lifetime of pain. All the rich attractiveness his face could have held seemed to have sunken into the background. At the foreground was a chilling anger that lit his features with fire. His dark hair fell into his eyes.

She paused her work, her eyes lighting up upon his entrance into her shop. She was thin and bony, but there was a fierce energy radiating from her. Her curly hair was piled atop her head with little care, though she wore it proudly. She appeared to be older than she actually was. Her eyes searched him, a look of pity briefly flickering across her face. Most people withdrew after looking into his eyes, but hers lingered there.

"Hungry?" she asked. The man didn't move. He stood, still studying her. She walked forward and gently nudged him towards the nearest seat. She closed the door behind him and went to the counter. She grabbed a dusty plate from the shelf underneath and quickly placed a pie on top. When she sat it in front of him, he didn't recoil as she had expected.

"Dig in," she told him, sitting opposite. "Don't expect greatness. They're rumored to be the worst pies in London." He hesitated, but reached forward and took a bite. His face darkened with the taste. He attempted to mask his repulsion, though he assumed she was used to that sort of reaction. She stood.

"You don't have to pretend to like it. I know they're nothing to brag about. I'll get you some ale. You'll need it." She walked towards the counter again, this time reaching for a glass. Once he was sure she wasn't looking, he spat the pie to the ground. "Times is hard," she sighed, filling the glass. "I barely get by. You can't expect to sell good pies when you got nothing more than lard to work with. That's the way it goes I guess."

She turned around again, placing a cup in front of him. Eager to clear his mouth of the bitter taste, he drank deeply. The ale was not much of an improvement, but it helped. She continued to talk.

"I'll wager if I found a way to do business like Mrs. Mooney, I'd be living a little better. Though, her methods are what you could call unorthodox. I've got me suspicions about where she gets her meat. I've noticed her neighbors cats are disappearing right and left. Would never do in my shop. Just the thought of it's enough to make you sick." She watched him as he drank. He looked so familiar. He set down the drained ale glass. It had helped while he was drinking it, but now the taste in his mouth was even more nauseating. The woman sensed this, and stood.

"C'mon, I'll get you a nice tumbler of gin. That should wash the taste out," she walked out of the room, and he followed. She led him into the parlor, decorated in green wallpaper with a fire glowing in the fireplace. Nothing around here had changed. Not even Mrs. Lovett.

She handed him another glass. He took it.

"Go on and sit down," she said, nodding towards the chairs. He sat and drank. She could see the relief spreading across his face. In between drinks he asked,

"You have a room over the shop, I noticed. If times is so hard, why don't you rent it out?" She sighed and went to sit in the chair next to his. His inquisitiveness made her suspect there was more to the gentleman than he was telling. Of course, he hadn't even bothered to mention his name. He didn't need to, though. She had a feeling her suspicions were accurate.

"Up there? I won't go near it. People think it's haunted," she told him.

"Haunted?" He asked. She had kindled his interest.

"Yeah. And who's to say they're wrong? Years ago, something happened to its last residents. Something rather unpleasant."

"Do tell," he urged. He was curious to know what people were saying about him. No doubt Mrs. Lovett's version would accurately depict all the succulent hearsay visitors would be curious about. Unless she suspected him.

"A barber used to live up there with his wife and daughter. His name was Benjamin Barker. He was the best barber London has ever had; a proper artist with a knife. But he got sent to prison," she said. She was looking for any sign of irritation in the man. He showed none.

"What was his crime?" he asked her. She paused. The man had committed no real crime, he had been falsely charged.

"Foolishness," she answered finally. "He didn't notice the affections other men showed towards his wife. Powerful men. There was this Judge, you see, who fell for his wife, and he was the one who sent Barker off to prison. He had the law in his pocket, see. The Judge figured that once Barker was out of the way, his wife would be easy to have. He was so wrong. She was angry at him, poor thing. She rarely left that room. Took care of her little daughter, Johanna, coming out only when necessary. The Judge sends her flowers, begging her to visit him. Still, she doesn't leave her room. Finally, one day, the Beadle calls on her. He tells her that the Judge has realized his sin and wants to make it up to her. He tells her the Judge expects her over for dinner. So off goes Lady Barker with the Beadle.

"But she doesn't know the Judge is having a masked ball. Unable to recognize anyone, she wanders around in distress; drinking. She drank a little too much. And the Judge, well, he wasn't as contrite as the Beadle painted him to be. And Lady Barker, in her drunken condition, couldn't really do much to stop him. He-"

"No!" the man interrupted her, standing. She studied his face again.

"So it _is_ you," she whispered. "Benjamin Barker." He turned to look at her, his eyes filled with profound melancholy.

"Where is Lucy?" he asked her. His voice was filled with a doomed hope, as if he knew the answer before Mrs. Lovett opened her mouth.

"She poisoned herself. Arsenic. She got it from the apothecary around the corner. I tried to stop her, but she wouldn't listen to me," she said quietly. "And he's got your daughter."

"He? Judge Turpin?" Barker asked, his dark eyes glinting with malice as he said the name. Mrs. Lovett nodded.

"He's adopted her. Like his own. Made her his ward."

Barker turned away from her. She stood, wanting to comfort him. Angrily, he threw off his coat and tossed it carelessly on the chair.

"Fifteen years," he said, darkly. "Fifteen years, I've sweated in a living hell on a false charge. Fifteen years dreaming I might come home to a wife and child." Mrs. Lovett cautiously took a step towards him. She gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Well, I can't say that the years have been particularly kind to you, Mr. Barker." He turned sharply to face her, the dark fire in his eyes alight once more.

"No! Not Barker," he said sharply. "That man is dead. It's Todd now. Sweeney Todd. And he will have his revenge," he uttered the last words of his sentence very clearly, but very dangerously quiet.

"Well, you can take your old room then," she said. "Mr. _Todd_." She led him up the stairs, and unlocked the door he'd stepped through so many times. It seemed like all his memories were from another lifetime ago. As far as Todd was concerned, it _was_ another lifetime ago.


	2. The Tonsorial Parlor

Mrs. Lovett walked in the room, leaving the door open for him. He hesitated to step in, as though he would be intruding on his own memories.

"Come in, love. Nothing to be afraid of," She assured him. Cautiously, he stepped in. His old possessions were covered with sheets, blanketed with dust. He walked toward the nearest corner, and lifted up one of the sheets. As soon as he had done so, he wished he hadn't. _Johanna_. It was her crib, unmade, with her favorite doll decaying on top of the blankets. A fresh wave of anguish washed over him. She was a sweet little thing, pale skin, rosy cheeks, yellow hair…

Mrs. Lovett pulled up a dusty ebony box. Todd turned from the corner, and walked to her. She blew off the dust that was resting on the lid. As soon as Todd laid eyes on the black box, she knew he remembered the contents. He gently took the box from her hands.

"When they came for the girl, I hid them. I could've sold them, but I didn't," She said. He opened the box, and ran his fingers softly across the razors. They were the only things in the room that hadn't lost their shine, their glory. Todd gently removed one from its place and held it in his hand. His eyes closed softly, as if the razor brought a relief he hadn't felt in ages.

"Ah, my friend," he whispered. His eyes opened again, and fell on Mrs. Lovett's face. "Leave me," he said. She stood and walked slowly out the door. As she walked down the steps, she couldn't believe what had just transpired. He was back. Benjamin Barker was back. And how could she ever have forgotten him?


	3. When Times Were Better

"_See you next week then, love" Mrs. Lovett said as a customer walked out the door. She sighed happily. She turned as she heard steps approaching. Young, healthy, and beautiful as ever stood Lucy Barker. Mrs. Lovett smiled at her. As much as she cared for Lucy, she couldn't help but feel a stab of jealousy every time she laid eyes on her. Lucy smiled back, pleasant as ever._

"_Hello, love" Mrs. Lovett greeted. "Where are you off to?"_

"_The market. I've heard the fresh fruit is especially good this week," Lucy said cheerily. Mrs. Lovett shook her head. _

"_In your condition you shouldn't be walking around too much, dearie. You ought to rest. Let me go to the market for you." Lucy laughed lightly._

"_You are too kind, Mrs. Lovett. But really, I'll be fine. Besides, I've gotten enough rest for ten men. I need to get out. You shouldn't worry. Benjamin will be along soon."_

"_Well don't be out too late, I don't want Albert to eat a whole pan-full of pies again," Mrs. Lovett said smartly, rolling her eyes. Lucy walked out the door, wrapping her shawl around her tightly._

_Mrs. Lovett sighed, grabbing a broom. Presently, she heard another set of footsteps bounding down the stairs. She looked up. Barker. His face was radiant, full of happiness. His eyes glittered with bliss, his dark hair falling just short of them._

"_Mrs. Lovett," he nodded as he reached the end of the stairs. He made for the door, but Mrs. Lovett spoke up._

"_Mr. Barker," she said. He turned. "I think we need to have a chat, you and I." He gave her a puzzled look and stepped towards her._

"_About what, ma'am?" he asked. Mrs. Lovett set her broom against a wall._

"_Lucy needs her rest. She ain't in no state to be walking to the market twice a week. Now, I would be more than happy to-" Barker interrupted her, laughing benevolently, and placing a hand on her shoulder._

"_Mrs. Lovett, we both know Lucy won't stay tied down. She insisted on going for a walk to the market. I protested, so then she decided to drag me along with her."_

"_Well, you just take good care of her. The little tyke's due to show up any day now. Say, have the two of you picked a name yet?"Mrs. Lovett asked._

"_I've always liked the name Johanna," Barker said, smiling as he walked to the door. "We'll be back soon, Mrs. Lovett." He exited after his wife, and Mrs. Lovett took up her sweeping again. She swept in silence, Benjamin Barker filling her thoughts._

_She'd been his landlady for some time now. He was such a striking gentleman; dark hair, cheery eyes, a kind smile. More than she could say of her Albert. He was a cold man, with no affection for anything except the food on his plate and his dead mother. No, Benjamin was the one she'd always turned to. He was her close friend, though she'd always felt an attraction that was more than just friendly. He would keep her company when Albert wasn't home yelling at her. And she would keep him company when Lucy was out. She knew it was wrong of her to have that fondness; after all, they were married. And not to each other. _

_ When Mrs. Lovett finished her sweeping, she began another batch of pies. They were one of the few things that she could cook well. Honestly, they were the main source of income. Albert worked, earning a measly pay. The door opened, and in he walked; short, stout, and bald with grey eyes and no appealing uniqueness to speak of. Speak of the devil, thought Mrs. Lovett._

_ "Hello, Albert," she greeted him. He looked at her and merely grunted in reply. Mrs. Lovett knew better than to try and initiate conversation with him, so she went back to what she was doing._

_ "Be in the parlor," Albert muttered, walking off. "Get me for dinner." When Mrs. Lovett looked up again, he was gone. She sighed. Not that she minded he left; she was actually in a better mood when he wasn't around. She wondered what she'd done in life to earn a husband like that. Deep down inside her, she was sure she cared about him. But she had to dig awful deep. Albert wouldn't sit around and listen to her mindless babble. Not like Lucy and Benjamin would. Thank God for them, she thought to herself. She didn't doubt that she would have gone barking mad if not for them. _

_When she did talk to Albert, he always ignored her. Or yelled at her for her ignorance. It was always a, "Good God, woman, can't a man get any peace and quiet around here after a hard day's work? Or does he have to listen to your bloody talk all day long?" or a "Why do you have to sit and talk all the time? I like you much better when you cook!" No, Mrs. Lovett felt a lot of things for her husband, but adoration wasn't one of them._

_ She worked in silence, cooking two pans of pies. A succulent aroma filled the house. She dressed the only table that she had in the shop. She set a place for Albert, though he rarely joined them at the table. He usually liked to take his meals in the parlor. Just as she was finishing setting out the plates, the shop door opened. Benjamin and Lucy walked in, rosy cheeked, arm in arm, and smiling hugely. Mrs. Lovett pasted on a smile._

_ "Hello dears," She said. "Just in time. Make yourselves comfortable. I'm going to see if our _dear_ Albert is going to join us." She walked out of the kitchen and into the parlor. Albert was sitting in his favorite chair, with a glass of gin in his hand._

_ "Albert, dinner," Mrs. Lovett said, roughly. "You coming?" He looked over at her, unmoving._

_ "Don't feel well," he said. "Be a dear and bring it in here." Mrs. Lovett sighed._

_ "Alright, love," she said, as she walked back into the kitchen. She took a plate from off the table and piled it high with pies. She brought it back to the parlor and handed it to her husband._

_ "There you are dear, tuck in." she said. He grunted in thanks. She walked back into the kitchen, and served plates for Benjamin, Lucy, and herself. _

_ Their dinner was a pleasant one, filled with friendly chatter and laughter. Times were so good. Lucy talked of Benjamin, and Benjamin talked of Lucy. Mrs. Lovett listened with patience, still feeling a stab of jealousy. In exchange, she told them stories of Albert. They were always amusing. Albert was a man who tried desperately not to amuse others, but did._


	4. Despairing Dreams

_Evenings like these were quite common. They had occurred for about a year now. And they went on for another. Soon, they were joined by a yellow haired angel; Johanna. She was the pride and joy of both the Barkers. Even Mrs. Lovett couldn't help but share in their pleasure. After all, she cared for the child too. Though, not as often as Lucy. Mrs. Lovett hadn't any children of her own, despite her wishes. When Johanna came, she was enthralled to have a young soul to care for._

_ Still, she kept busy with her shop, and Mr. Barker kept busy with his. Lucy would go on walks and outings with her beloved Johanna. Mrs. Lovett noticed, however, when she came back from these walks, she seemed slightly irritated. Sometimes she came home with flowers, which she promptly threw out in the street. Mrs. Lovett didn't want to pry, even though she did want to know who was bothering Lucy so. She heard several names through the grapevine. One in particular stood out; Turpin. Just thinking the name left a bitter aftertaste in her mind. He was no good. She hoped Lucy wasn't getting mixed up in a mess like that. A mess she couldn't get out of._

_ It was a Thursday. The Barkers were going to the market, as usual. Albert was at home, feeling sick, his bones paining him. She was bringing Albert in his lunch when the Barkers headed out the door._

_ "We'll be back shortly, Mrs. Lovett," said Lucy, as she wrapped Johanna tightly. "Only about an hour."_

_ "Save us some pies, eh?" Benjamin smiled. Mrs. Lovett smiled back and winked._

_ "Always, my dears. Now, go on. Best mind yourselves," she teased. They walked out the door. She sat and talked to Albert while he ate. Of nothing important, really, just the weather, the gossip she had heard last week from Mrs. Mooney, and complaints about things getting expensive. Albert stayed awake, occasionally laughing. Once he had finished his plate, however, his head began to droop. Sleep was inevitable. Mrs. Lovett didn't notice his fatigue, of course, until she asked him a question he did not answer. She almost smiled, as she gently took the plate from his hands._

_She left Albert asleep in the living room and went back to her work in the kitchen. My heart must be melting, she thought. She was actually starting to care for the man again. Speaking of men, where was Benjamin? He'd left with Lucy and Johanna near two hours ago. She shrugged off her worry, and went back to kneading dough._

_She'd never seen a family so happy. And why shouldn't the Barkers be happy? Johanna was simply a beauty. Lucy was healthy, and sweet-spirited as ever, and Benjamin… Benjamin was still the same gentleman she'd always known. Pity she was stuck in the background of his life. As childish as it seemed, sometimes Mrs. Lovett would catch herself dreaming. What would her life be like if she had married Benjamin Barker instead of Albert Lovett? It wasn't all that inconceivable. She was only a few years younger than he. They made each other happy. They both had fair income. If the Fates had paired them together, she had no doubt they'd both be better off. Happier, even. But the future wasn't written into stone, she reminded herself. Maybe the Fates would put them together. She had to be patient._

_Davey Collins came running in the front door. He was breathing hard and sweating profusely. He looked as though he'd ran several miles._

"_Ma'am" he panted. "Mr. Barker. Is he..?" Collins could barely get the words out. Mrs. Lovett was sure he would pass out if he didn't rest._

"_There, there, love," she said, leading him to a chair. "Rest yourself. Where you been running from, dear?" She sat across from him. He took a moment to catch his breath._

"_I was in the marketplace, and I saw them! Did you know what happened?" He asked. He was speaking so fast._

"_Slow down, love, or your tongue will fall right out of your mouth! What are you going on about? Who's got who?" she asked, trying to calm his spirits._

"_Mr. Barker! He's been arrested!" Davey said. Mrs. Lovett jumped to her feet, gasping. This was completely unexpected._

"_What? On what charge?" She asked the boy. She would be the first to admit she was in to gossip, but this! This was a scandal! Benjamin Barker wouldn't hurt a fly much less break the law._

"_I don't know, ma'am. I just seen him walking with his wife. And then the constables nabbed him."_

"_Is that all?" Mrs. Lovett asked. "You didn't see anything else?" Davey thought for several seconds, replaying the scene in his mind._

"_All I know is that as they was dragging Mr. Barker away, Judge Turpin went to talk to his wife. You don't think he's done something bad, do you? Is he gonna come back?" Davey was filled with curiosity and excitement. The kind that got people into trouble._

"_I don't know, love. Why don't you run on home, though? I don't think Mr. Barker will be needing you today. Don't be mentioning this to anyone else, you hear?" She said. Davey stood and bounded towards the door._

"_Yes, ma'am," he called as he ran off. Mrs. Lovett didn't expect the lad to keep his mouth shut, but she couldn't really worry about that now. Barker couldn't have done anything to warrant an arrest. She had noticed the Judge was paying extra attention to Lucy, though. Could this have something to do with her? Mrs. Lovett paced back and forth in front of the kitchen windows, nervously. The minutes ticked by. Mrs. Lovett was lost in her thoughts, waiting to hear Lucy walk in the front door._

_About half an hour later, she did. She was clutching Johanna tightly, her face tear streaked. She radiated an aura of panic. Mrs. Lovett walked quickly to her side._

"_There there, dear. So it's true?" she asked as she gently sat Lucy down. Lucy nodded, her hold on Johanna unrelenting, as though someone were trying to pry her child from her arms. _

"_They came out of nowhere. They were so…violent. They said Benjamin had killed a man. He hadn't. He _couldn't._ It's not even his nature!"_

"_I know that just as well as you do, dearie," Mrs. Lovett agreed. "What about the Judge? What did he want?"_

"_He said that he couldn't bear to see me walk around with a man like that. With a murderer. He told me I was free. And he even had the nerve to offer me his protection," Lucy said, angry tears springing to her eyes._

"_Little sot," Mrs. Lovett mumbled. "What do we do? Is he going to have a court date? Or are they just shipping him off to Newgate?" Mrs. Lovett wrung her hands. He had a chance if there was a trial. It was a slim chance, especially since Judge Turpin had most of the control. But it would leave Barker better off than if they just shipped him out. _

"_I don't know," Lucy sighed in frustration. "Nellie, I'm frightened." Mrs. Lovett stopped her pacing. Though she and Lucy were the same age, she was hardly referred to as Nellie. Only in times when they were having intimate conversation or when Lucy was in great distress were they on a first name or nickname basis. Mrs. Lovett walked slowly to Lucy's side, and sat in the chair next to her._

"_Don't worry, love," she crooned to a sobbing Lucy. "All we can do right now is wait. We'll hear news soon, I'm sure. And then, we'll work things out. We always do." She placed a hand on Lucy's shoulder. Lucy turned to her, her tears spilling over._

"_God, I hope you're right," she whispered as she rested her head on Mrs. Lovett's shoulder in defeat. "I hope you're right," she repeated. They sat in the kitchen, Lucy distraught, and Mrs. Lovett_ _worried sick. Once Lucy's sobs had subsided slightly, she stood._

"_You want to help me make dinner? It'll keep your mind off things for a while," Mrs. Lovett suggested. Lucy shifted Johanna from one hip to the other._

"_No thank you," she said quietly. "I'll be upstairs. You'll tell me if you hear any news of Benjamin?" She asked as she walked up the stairs._

"_Of course, love," Mrs. Lovett said kindly. Lucy disappeared quietly up the stairs, and Mrs. Lovett turned to her counter. She knew she couldn't sit around doing nothing. _


	5. Desparate Times

_She'd never liked Judge Turpin. He'd never given her reason to be suspicious; she simply had a vivid distaste for his frequent parties and frivolities. He had no respect for the working class, and he always took what he wanted. She'd only met him face to face about once or twice. He was always followed by a pudgy man. Beadle Bamford was his name. He was the Judge's pocket pet. Always did what he asked._

_Mrs. Lovett pounded the dough against the counter. The whole ordeal had begun to outrage her. She'd always had a temper; a darker side that she had to keep in check. She didn't know how Lucy could stand it. Of course, she and Lucy were women of different breeding. Lucy was quiet, calm, level-headed, and always polite. Mrs. Lovett had been raised to speak her mind whenever it pleased her and to do whatever it took to survive. Perhaps it was just as well; an outburst from Lucy might endanger Benjamin's future even more. They were in a hopeless situation._

_Fortunately, Lucy wouldn't have to worry about a thing. Mrs. Lovett would see to that. There would be no pesky gossipers, no lack of income, no shortage of food. Of course Mrs. Lovett had to think of Albert, too. After all, he depended on her now. But she'd taken care of more needy bodies at a time. She would manage._

_The hours ticked by. Mrs. Lovett finished dinner. Lucy didn't remove herself from her room. Mrs. Lovett left a plate by her door, and when she came up again it was empty. She gave Albert his meal in the parlor. Luckily for her, he was oblivious to all that was going on. He would doze in and out of sleep. When he was brought his dinner, he seemed to perk up._

"_Thank you, Eleanor," he said, as Mrs. Lovett handed him a plate. "Smells heavenly." As odd as it was, Albert's mood seemed to have improved even though he was suffering. Mrs. Lovett sat in a chair close to the fire._

"_How are you feeling, love?" she asked him. He shrugged. "I just hope your leg doesn't give out," she said. "You'll need it. We'll all need it. Especially since you're the only man around the house now. And things is getting so expensive. How we'll make it by without you, I don't know. We won't I can tell you, not with four mouths to feed," she sighed. "Oh, Lucy, the poor thing. She didn't need this. None of 'em did. Isn't it funny how the worst things happen at the best times?" Mrs. Lovett was surprised that her husband didn't protest to her chatter. She looked over at him, only to realize he was asleep. She sighed and took his empty plate back to the kitchen. _

_Presently, the door opened. Mrs. Lovett wheeled around, only to lay eyes on the Beadle. Just the person she wanted to see and throw out into the street, all at the same time. She knew if she was going to get any information from him, she'd have to use some of her feminine charm. _

"_Evening, madam," the Beadle drawled. Mrs. Lovett pasted on a smile and walked towards him._

"_Evening, sir. What can I do for you?" she asked, coating her voice with honey. The Beadle took off his hat._

"_I'm here on an errand. I heard that this is the residence of a Mrs. Lucy Barker. May I speak with her?" his voice was oily. _

"_She's not taking any visitors at the moment," Mrs. Lovett said. "It's a shock, finding out your husband is a murderer," she lied through her teeth. She had to make the Beadle think she was on his side. She stepped closer to him, batting her eyes. "Would you like me to deliver a message?" _

_The Beadle turned slightly pink, and coughed nervously. He smiled at Mrs. Lovett, who felt pleased her methods were working._

"_That's very kind of you, but it can wait until tomorrow. I'm so busy with all of this Barker business." He turned to leave, but Mrs. Lovett gently grabbed his shoulder._

"_Speaking of such," she said, sweeter than before. "Is there going to be a trial? It's not one I would want to miss." The Beadle laughed._

"_No public trial. They've got all the evidence and several people willing to testify. As far as I am concerned, it should be short and sweet. Then we'll send the devil off to Newgate." Mrs. Lovett was frustrated at this. She flashed a smile, so her irritation wouldn't show through._

"_Well, at least we won't have him wandering around anymore," she said, brushing off the subject. "Have a good evening, sir." She gently guided him out the door and closed it quickly. She heaved a deep sigh of defeat. Was there no hope for her Benjamin?_

_They were sending him off to Newgate as early as tomorrow. Barker wouldn't last a day in there. Not with the awful scum that deserved to be there. They were all vicious liars and cheaters. Newgate wasn't all too unlike Hell itself. And if Benjamin ever did get out, he would be different. Oh, so different. In fact, he might cease to be Benjamin Barker altogether. That's what scared Mrs. Lovett the most._


	6. Pirelli's Death

Mrs. Lovett walked quickly up the stairs. She opened the door and stepped in, heaving a great sigh.

"Oh, that boy is drinking me out of house and home," she said. "When does Pirelli get back?" She turned to face Todd.

"He won't be back," Todd said, facing her in return. She gave him a puzzled look, and her eyes fell upon the blood staining his sleeve. She gasped.

"Mr. T! You didn't!" She exclaimed. Not that she hadn't expected something of that nature to occur. Mr. Todd simply gave a furtive glance towards the chest. Mrs. Lovett quickly closed the door and opened the lid.

She gasped again. There was Pirelli, covered in the deepest, richest, prettiest red. Blood. His eyes had rolled back into his head, and across his neck was a line of scarlet. He had a purplish tint to one of his cheeks, bruises no doubt. She quickly closed the lid.

"You're barking mad," she whispered. "Killing a man what done you no harm!" For the first time in her life, she was _afraid_ of the man standing before her. Desperate times called for desperate measures, she knew this better than anyone. But killing for the fun of it? That put them in more danger than they could afford at the moment.

Todd never took his eyes off his razor. It was clean, but he kept running the cloth against it, holding it lovingly.

"He recognized me from the old days. Tried to blackmail me," he sheathed his razor. "Half me earnings."

"Oh, well," Mrs. Lovett breathed in relief. "That's a different matter, then. For a moment there, I thought you'd lost your marbles." She opened the trunk lid again. The fear she had felt previously simply melted away. She grew a deep admiration for Todd. He had changed drastically, she couldn't deny that. In the early days, Barker looked like a saint next to her. Todd was much more mysterious than she, and she had a fondness for it. The fact that he was willing to do whatever was necessary to survive and to avenge his sweet Lucy; it was morbidly romantic. Mrs. Lovett had been very much in love with Benjamin Barker, but the darker, solemner Sweeney Todd left her captivated, breathless, and awed.


	7. The End Begins

_The days dragged on into weeks and eventually, months. Barker was transported to Newgate, and there was no public trial, as promised. Mrs. Lovett was wearing herself to the bone. Albert's leg had given out; his gout was paining him enormously. Lucy stayed in her room. If and when she came out, her face was pink and swollen from her tears. Mrs. Lovett pitied her; how hard it must be to lose your husband. Especially such a husband as Benjamin Barker. Times were getting hard, and Mrs. Lovett worried._

_ It was on a dreary and cloudy day that Beadle Bamford came calling once again. Mrs. Lovett struggled not to glare as she looked up from her dough._

_ "Afternoon, sir," she said. He nodded, and removed his hat._

_ "I must speak with Lucy Barker, ma'am. It is of the utmost importance," he said._

_ "It's not to leave any more bloody flowers, is it?" she muttered darkly. Bamford, keen of hearing, still picked up what she said. He gave her a dangerous smile._

_ "I'll go talk to her," Mrs. Lovett said, quickly ducking out of the kitchen. She walked up the stairs, deliberately slowly. Lucy didn't need to be bothered by him. Mrs. Lovett was almost reluctant to even ask if Lucy was up for visitors. It would be so easy to lie to him… Still, moments later, she found herself standing inside Lucy's room; the yellow haired angel waiting for news._

_ "The Beadle is here, dearie. He says he needs to talk to you. Claims it's urgent. I can tell him to-" Mrs. Lovett began. Lucy gasped and stood quickly._

_ "No, I need to speak to him. What if he has news about my Benjamin?" Mrs. Lovett hadn't really thought of that. Lucy straightened out her skirts and gently brushed her hair out of her face. "Will you wait here with Johanna?" Lucy asked before running down the stairs. Mrs. Lovett sighed and sat in the chair near the crib. _

_ The temptation of knowing what the Beadle was asking Lucy was too strong. Johanna was sleeping peacefully, and it was doubtful Mrs. Lovett would be needed. She rose and stood at the top of the stairs, out of sight. She could just barely pick out their voices._

_ "-Incredibly sorry. He never meant to displease you, ma'am. He was only thinking of what was best for you. But, he has realized his sin. His grievous sin against you, and against God. He wants to make amends." Mrs. Lovett scoffed as she heard the Beadle speak these words. It sounded as though it was a rehearsed speech; memorized carefully._

_ "If the good Judge is as repentant as you claim, then I cannot deny him if he wishes to make amends," Lucy replied. Mrs. Lovett had a sinking feeling in her stomach. She could hear the Beadle's smile in his voice._

_ "Wonderful! Oh, he will be so pleased. You must come to his house for dinner tonight. I'll be here with a coach at eight." She heard the shop door creak shut, and quickly returned to her chair beside Johanna. Minutes later, Lucy came back up the stairs. The pink around her eyes was beginning to fade, and some color had returned to her cheeks._

_ "What did he want?" Mrs. Lovett asked, trying to appear innocent. Lucy sighed._

_ "He says the Judge wants to make amends. He realizes he has sinned. He's invited me over for dinner." _

_ "And?" Mrs. Lovett asked._

_ "Well, who am I to withhold forgiveness?" Lucy asked. She was too sweet. Mrs. Lovett__would understand if Lucy wanted nothing further to do with Judge Turpin. She had every reason to. Then again, Lucy was by far a kinder soul than she. Perhaps that was why she had ended up with Benjamin._

_ "I'm leaving at eight," Lucy said. "I should probably clean up a little." Mrs. Lovett stood and walked toward the door._

_ "You have a way there, dearie?" she asked. Lucy nodded. "You take care of yourself," she cautioned and walked out the door, back down the stairs, and into the kitchen._

_ She had nothing better to do than bake more pie. The quality of her meat was suffering. She was able to afford less and less, barely scraping by on what she had. She passed the minutes, mindlessly kneading, mixing, pouring, arranging, and baking pies. It seemed like hours before Lucy walked down the stairs again, Johanna in her arms. _

_Lucy had pulled her hair back into its usual elegant knot. She was wearing a white dress and donned a lace shawl. She looked happier than she had for the past few weeks. But that was only the impression one got at a glance. Mrs. Lovett could sense Lucy's edginess. She gave her a warm smile and walked toward her._

"_You look lovely, dear," she said. Lucy smiled at her. They both turned quickly as the Beadle walked in the store door again. He smiled upon seeing them._

"_Ah, good evening, ladies," he offered his arm to Lucy. She cast a glance over at Mrs. Lovett. Mrs. Lovett brushed the flour off her corset, and gently took Johanna from her arms._

"_Stay on your guard," Mrs. Lovett whispered. "We'll all be here waiting for you when you get home." She balanced Johanna on her hip. Lucy took the Beadle's arm, and they walked out into the dark, unforgiving night. Mrs. Lovett sighed._

"_I guess it's just you and me then, love," she crooned to Johanna. She walked into her parlor. Albert was asleep in his usual chair, his legs sticking out stiffly. Mrs. Lovett sat with Johanna the couch by Albert. The warm fire flickered across Johanna's pale, angelic face. Her bright eyes shimmered. Mrs. Lovett couldn't help but smile. She could absolutely see Benjamin in the little girl. Her hair, eyes, and skin color belonged to her mother. But the tender glances, cheerful smiles, and curiosity were her father's._


	8. Poor Thing

_Mrs. Lovett had always wanted a child of her own. Someone to care for, besides Albert. Someone with sweet, innocent eyes that made her give in to anything. Someone who she could comfort when they cried. Someone who she could teach. Someone who trusted her, who loved her with all their heart. A son. A daughter. Someone. _

_Mrs. Lovett sat back and closed her eyes. If her life were the way she wanted, she wouldn't even be in London. She'd be basking in the sun somewhere, by the sea. She would be Mrs. Eleanor Barker. She would be popular among her neighbors, throwing dinners that were the talk of the town. She would own her own house. Just her and Benjamin. If only she were that lucky._

_She wasn't all too unhappy with her lot in life. She didn't hate Albert. She could have ended up with someone a lot worse. True, they had their fights, but they always made up. She didn't exactly choose to marry Albert either. Back when she was younger, naïve, and subservient to her parents, she agreed to the marriage. They told her Albert Lovett was a kind and wealthy young gentleman. Of course, she should have realized her parents were the ones getting all the money out of the deal. And Albert's kindness was unpredictable. Some days it was there, some days it was as though it never existed._

_Her ponderings and dreams were interrupted when the door to the shop crashed shut. She sat up quickly, waking Johanna. The little girl didn't cry, she simply looked around; wide eyed. Mrs. Lovett placed Johanna on her hip and walked into the kitchen. It was Lucy. Mrs. Lovett must have fallen asleep; it was dreadfully late._

_Lucy Barker wasn't at all in the same condition as she was when she had left. She was crying, her yellow curls were in a mess; falling into her face, her white dress was stained with dirt, and the hem was heavily tattered._

"_Lucy?" Mrs. Lovett asked. "What happened to you? Are you alright?" Lucy, still sobbing, sat at the table. She didn't even seem like she acknowledged Mrs. Lovett's presence. Mrs. Lovett quickly walked up the stairs, laid Johanna in her crib, and ran back down to sit at Lucy's side._

"_What happened?" Mrs. Lovett repeated. Lucy took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself. The tears were still streaming down her face, slowly and indignantly._

"_He lied to me," she finally whispered. "What have I done?"_

"_Who lied?"_

"_Bamford. And Turpin. They both… lied. Beadle told me Turpin was contrite. And I believed him. Even after what they did to my husband. I know they did it. I don't need proof. It was just to get Benjamin out of the way. And since he was gone… They… Benjamin," she said. Her words came slowly at first, but then they seemed to spill out of her mouth. She couldn't finish her sentence, as she was sobbing harder than ever._

"_Did Turpin do something to you?" Mrs. Lovett asked, fearing the worst. Lucy nodded. A large knot twisted in Mrs. Lovett's stomach. In the streets, there were rumors about Turpin and his lady guests. Rumors that weren't fit to be talked about in public. "Lucy?" Mrs. Lovett asked, trying to get the poor dear to tell more. To at least deny Mrs. Lovett's fears. Or, if needs be, confirm them._

"_Oh, I should not be called a wife! I didn't do as you asked. It wasn't a dinner, it was a masked ball. I-I didn't recognize anyone. I drank a lot more than I should have. And Turpin… finally took what he wanted," she sobbed harder, burying her face in her hands. "Benjamin, forgive me!"_

"_There, there love," Mrs. Lovett attempted to comfort her. "You couldn't have known that was going to happen. Benjamin wouldn't blame you."_

"_I don't even deserve to breathe this air," Lucy said, drying her tears. She stood, shakily. "I can't live with myself. Not after what has happened."_

"_Now, don't you go blaming yourself for this," Mrs. Lovett said, sternly. "It was Turpin. We can use this against him! We can ruin the devil!" Lucy shook her head._

"_No one will believe me," she said. "Everyone at the ball saw what happened. They thought I was crazy. Perhaps I am." Lucy's eyes found Mrs. Lovett's. They had lost all their former shine and happiness. Now they were a dull, colorless gray. Lucy's pale skin seemed gray. She looked worn, tired, and much older._

"_You just get some rest dear," Mrs. Lovett said, leading her up the stairs. "You'll feel better in the morning and then we can talk about this." She helped Lucy to lie down. She walked out of the room, gently closing the door shut behind her._


	9. Hope

"I brought you some breakfast, dear," Mrs. Lovett said, walking into Todd's room. He was facing the window, lost in thought. He barely noticed Mrs. Lovett at all. She sat the tray down on the vanity. She stood in silence for several seconds. Her silence was what caught Todd's attention. Silence was not a common occurrence for Mrs. Lovett. To be honest, her chatter was rather pleasant. At times it kept him from venturing into the darkest corners of his mind. It kept him sane.

Mrs. Lovett could practically see the wheels turning in Mr. Todd's head. There was a pressing matter on her mind, something they had discussed the other night. In a way, she had confessed to him. She confessed she dreamed of living by the sea. With him. While he had not spurned her advances, he didn't encourage them either. Mrs. Lovett suspected, or perhaps she just dreamed, that he had a similar attraction to her.

"Mr. T? Can I ask you a question?" She stepped forward, almost leaning gently against his lax frame.

"What?" he whispered, coming back to the present. He didn't turn to face her as she talked, simply continued studying the bleak skyline.

"What did your Lucy look like?" Mrs. Lovett asked. It was a completely unexpected question. Of course Mrs. Lovett knew what Lucy looked like. She was just checking to see if he had moved on, no doubt. And he most certainly had not. Yet, he did hold a deep attraction to Mrs. Lovett. He just wasn't as comfortable as sharing it.

"You can't really remember can you?" Mrs. Lovett continued, after several moments of silence. This, of course, was false. Todd could never forget Lucy.

"She had yellow hair," he whispered, and his voice trailed off. Mrs. Lovett gently put her hand on his arm.

"You've got to leave this all in the past. Life is for the alive, my dear," she whispered gently. "We could have a life, us two. Maybe not like you remember. Maybe not like I dreamed. But we could get by." Todd turned to face her. Her eyes were gentle. How _had_ he lived this long without her? She was the most devilishly cunning and beautiful woman.


	10. Fate's Blow

_It was late morning. Johanna was softly crying upstairs. Mrs. Lovett followed the cries. It was unusual for Lucy to not care for Johanna. Especially since the girl was all she had left. When Mrs. Lovett entered the room, there was no sign of Lucy. There was a sheet of paper on the bed. Mrs. Lovett went to pick up Johanna, whose fussing had quieted. After calming the child, she picked up the paper. Lucy had written it. Mrs. Lovett didn't bother reading past the third line. Three words stood out to her; Apothecary. Arsenic. Good-bye._

_Mrs. Lovett spent the day caring for Johanna and Albert simultaneously. In the meantime, she was trying to learn of what happened to Lucy. No one had heard anything. She kept busy, waiting to hear Lucy walk in, telling how she had changed her mind. But that moment never came. Johanna grew fussy as the days wore on. She needed the attentions of her mother, and was able to recognize Mrs. Lovett was not, in fact, her real mother._

_It was on a market day when Mrs. Lovett saw Lucy again. Only Lucy was not so much herself anymore. Mrs. Lovett had brought along Johanna, who was cooing happily. She walked through the streets in silence, observing everything and nothing. She felt someone clutching at her skirt as she walked. She wheeled around. There was a yellow haired woman standing before her. Mrs. Lovett recognized the woman. Lucy. There was something much different about her. Like the space behind her eyes was empty. Her eyes themselves appeared to be hollow. Her skin, once fair and clear with pink cheeks, was a hideous gray. She was scarring around her mouth, and her lips were dry and cracked._

"_Lucy?" Mrs. Lovett asked. Lucy looked at her, studied her face. Lucy's face darkened. It was as though she didn't even recognize her._

"_You," she breathed. "I know you. You're the devil's wife. Ain't you?"_

"_No," Mrs. Lovett shook her head. "I'm your friend. I have been for quite some time now, love. You need to come with me."_

_Lucy backed away, a wild fear in her eyes. She was mumbling something incoherent. As earnestly as Mrs. Lovett pleaded with her, there was no hope. Lucy was not dead physically. But mentally, she would never be whole again._

_Disheartened and rather frightened, Mrs. Lovett quickly walked home. She sat by the window in the Barker's room, rocking Johanna to sleep. It had been months since she had seen Lucy. She had been worried sick. It was just Mrs. Lovett and Johanna. Her dear Albert had passed on a month before. She missed hearing him snore, and having someone around who would eat her cooking even though she couldn't afford good supplies. But she was glad the poor man was out of his misery now._

_Just as she laid Johanna, who was finally asleep, in her crib, there was a loud knocking on the door. The odd thing was, it was on the Barker's door, not the shop door. Mrs. Lovett peered through the curtains and saw two constables standing there. She rushed over to the oak vanity, grabbed Barker's razors, and quickly hid them under a loose floor board. She had a feeling that they would come in handy later. She walked briskly to the door and opened it._

"_Hello, gentlemen," she greeted. Neither of the constables returned her cheeriness; they merely stared grimly ahead._

"_Ma'am, we're here to take Johanna Barker," one said, sternly. Mrs. Lovett's smile faltered._

"_Come again?" she asked._

"_Johanna Barker is coming with us," he repeated. Mrs. Lovett shook her head._

"_No, she can't. I am perfectly capable of taking care of her. The poor dear's mother is-"_

"_-Incapacitated. She was taken to Bedlam two weeks ago. The great Judge Turpin has agreed to take her in and care for her." Mrs. Lovett stood her ground._

"_Well I was asked to care for the girl," she argued. "And I shall."_

_The constables pushed past her and walked to Johanna's crib. They picked up the girl, awkwardly. Johanna woke and began to cry. Her eyes searched for Mrs. Lovett. When they found her face, they were filled with a questioning fear. Mrs. Lovett was helpless. There was nothing for her to do to save the girl. Before Mrs. Lovett could blink, they were out the door with the only Barker she had left in her life. Johanna was now in the hands of Judge Turpin._

_Mrs. Lovett sucked her breath in, refusing to allow herself to cry. She looked around the room. It was eerily still. All of the Barker's positions lay in their designated spots, without their usual owners occupying them. It bothered her, to see the room uninhabited. She went to a linen closet and placed sheets over all the furniture. She left all exactly as it was, not even making the blankets on Johanna's bed. Once all was shrouded in white, Mrs. Lovett closed the door for what she thought was the last time._

_Then the rumors started. Mrs. Lovett didn't take credit for starting them, sharing them, or twisting them, though she did her fair share of each. The Barkers became a sort of legend. An example to the lower few. Times were hard. She could hardly afford meat, it was all lard. It was a rare occurrence if she even got a customer. She was building her own reputation, unintentionally, for having the worst pies in London. The only thing that kept people passing by was the Barkers and their haunted room._

_The Barkers never left her thoughts. Lucy was released from Bedlam, but wasn't anymore sane than she was before. The poor thing should have gone to a hospital, anyone could have seen that. She wandered around, begging and talking nonsense. Johanna was growing up. And from what Mrs. Lovett heard, she was a beauty; pale skin, blue eyes, and yellow hair. Just like her mother. But Benjamin. She'd heard nothing of Benjamin. Naturally, she assumed he'd died in prison. It wouldn't be all too unlikely. Still, she dared herself to dream. Dared to believe that he would walk in, and just like old times, they'd be together again. Maybe after all the rough patches in her life, Fate was preparing her at last. Preparing her for Benjamin Barker._


	11. Demon's End

Mrs. Lovett hurried down the stairs. She was worried about Toby, she hadn't seen hide nor hair of him in the cellar. She didn't have time to worry about that now. She walked to the far wall where Beadle Bamford, Judge Turpin, and…

There was a loud gasping. Mrs. Lovett felt a tugging on her skirts. Before she could stop herself, she was screaming. Judge Turpin, still oozing a rich ruby red, was gasping and pulling on her dress.

"Die!" she screamed. "God in heaven, die!" Turpin's hold ever so slowly relaxed as the gagging noises grew louder. She backed up quickly, as soon as she was able to break his hold. She closed her eyes, and took several deep breaths. When she opened her eyes again, they fell upon yellow hair.

"You," she whispered. There was a sinking feeling in her stomach. If Todd were to discover the body… she shuddered to think what would happen. She walked quickly to the body and dragged it towards the furnace.

The bake house door creaked open. Todd stood there, clutching his razor, his shirt stained with blood, and his face streaked with it. He managed to look pleased and angry all at the same time.

"Why did you scream?" he asked her. She was already moving bodies towards the furnace. She was dragging the beggar woman, having slight difficulty.

"Oh," she said, nervously. "He was clutching onto me dress," she said, nodding towards Turpin. "But he's finished now." Mrs. Lovett's fear didn't have any effect on Todd; it only pleased him that Turpin suffered. It would in no way amount to the fifteen years of pain that he had to endure, but where there was pain for Turpin, there was pleasure for Todd.

Todd stepped forward and grabbed the corpse's arm.

"I'll take care of it," he said, not intending to be kind, but to make quick work of getting rid of the evidence. "Open the door," he instructed Mrs. Lovett. She hesitated to step away, fearing that Todd would discover. Everything would be ruined then!

"Open the door, I said," he growled, that fire returning to his eyes. Mrs. Lovett did as she was told, and walked towards the furnace. She pulled open the door. The cold cellar was bathed in the warm glow of the flames. Todd's eyes flicked to the woman's face. His angry expression softened. He dropped the woman's arm, and squatted next to her still frame.

Mrs. Lovett tried to look away. She didn't want to see the look on his face when he recognized the girl. But there was nowhere else to look; except forward. At her doom.

Todd gently brushed back the yellow hair that had hung in the woman's face. He immediately felt sick to his stomach. It was her. It was unmistakable. She had changed, but he knew his Lucy when he saw her. He could never forget her.

"'Don't I know you?' she said," he whispered, grief stricken. He looked up at Mrs. Lovett in disbelief. "You knew she lived."

Mrs. Lovett's vision was blocked by tears. She hadn't killed Lucy; Todd did that on his own. But it was just as much her fault as it was his. And she would be treated no better than Turpin. If only he would understand her motives. Maybe he would forgive her. Maybe they could still be together.

"I was only thinking of you," she told him. And it was true. However, Todd's pained expression did not falter.

"You lied to me," he accused. To hear him mutter those words was the most painful thing Mrs. Lovett had ever endured. She had never intended to hurt him. She didn't lie…

"No, no, not lied. I never lied," she said. "I said she took a poison, and she did. I never said that she died!" Her explanation fell on deaf ears. Todd was hugging his wife close to his chest, whispering her name. Mrs. Lovett didn't stop talking. "Poor thing, she lived. But the arsenic left her weak in the head. She should have been in a hospital, wound up in Bedlam instead." Todd was still ignoring her, drowning in his own grief.

"Yes! I lied," she admitted loudly. She took a cautious step forward. "It was better that you think she was dead, than see her the way she was. Yes, I lied because I love you! Could she ever care for you like me?" Mr. Todd stood, backing up slowly from his wife's body.

"Lucy," he repeated. "What have I done?" he cried out in anguish. He turned quickly on his heel, to face Mrs. Lovett. She saw a hellfire gleaming in his eyes, one so fierce and burning so bright. Hatred that she had never seen in his eyes before. Then, all the fire was extinguished.

"Mrs. Lovett," he said. "You're a bloody wonder." He took a step towards her, and she took a step back. She wasn't sure she should trust him. Her instincts were screaming at her to run. "You've always said there's little point in dwelling on the past. You're right. I have to put all of this behind me."

"Do you mean it?" she asked. He nodded. "Everything I did, I swear, I thought it was only for the best. Please believe me," she pleaded.

"Come here, my love," he said, his arms outstretched. She hesitated. "There's nothing to fear," he assured her. He'd never lied to her before. She stepped forward, placing herself in his arms. It felt heavenly; as if she belonged there. "What's dead is dead," he whispered into her hair. She looked into his deep somber eyes, there was an expression there. Love, was it? She smiled. The Fates were favoring her at last. Finally, she and Todd could live her dream.

Todd was certain he'd gained her trust. She wasn't near as hesitant as before. This woman, this Nellie Lovett, he trusted. She lied. He had actually begun to see himself ending up with Mrs. Lovett, but the tables had turned. And now his sweet Lucy was dead. By his own hand. He couldn't believe he'd been so foolish, again. It made him lose Lucy for a final time.

He slowly spun her around the room. Her movements matched his perfectly, and she rested herself against his chest. She was trusting him. Just as he trusted her. And she was going to get burned for it. As they neared the open furnace, Todd used all his strength to shove the fiend in the fire. Mrs. Lovett collapsed on top of the flames, immediately being consumed. There was a look of deep hurt, betrayal, sorrow, and a flicker of love. Still. After all the hurt, the lies, the treachery. She still loved him.

Todd ignored her screams of pain, and closed the heavy door, latching it shut. It muffled her screams, only a little. He walked back over to Lucy. He knelt gently taking her limp form in his hands. He pressed his lips to her cold cheek, and let out a soft sob. There he knelt, holding Lucy, for several minutes.

He heard the shifting of a sewer grate behind him. It must be Toby, he thought. He had, no doubt, heard everything. He heard Toby's footsteps approaching him, and the scrape of his abandoned razor against the cement. Todd knew what was coming. He had killed so many for Lucy, to avenge her. And it turned out he was the one who had drained her sweet life from her veins. Everything he had done, everything he had lived for was in vain. His Lucy was still lost to him.

He didn't deserve to live, and he knew he wasn't going to. He wasn't frightened, knowing he had mere seconds left, yet he wasn't calm. He furrowed his brow and tilted his head back, offering his bare, pale neck. Though expected, the sting of the razor hit him unexpectedly. Its cool metal burned his skin, and he could feel the life slowly draining out of him. Growing cold. He looked down at his sweet Lucy. Her pretty, pale face, stained with his blood. He kept his eyes open for as long as he could, relishing in the pain. Knowing that, this time, he deserved every second of it. His throat began to fill with his own thick, warm blood. He couldn't breathe. His vision faded to black.

Thus, with the death of Lucy Barker, ended the life of Sweeney Todd. In the end, Lucy was the only thing Todd had to live for; the only thing that kept him going. It was the only piece of Benjamin Barker he had left to hold on to; the need for sweet revenge. The only thing the cold, merciless Sweeney Todd held in common with the meek, naïve Benjamin Barker was Lucy. It had always been Lucy.

_Fin_


End file.
